On the 54th morning,
postnasal drip of not having coffee yet,
my driving to work
in my metal box car continues.
The horizon is a palette,
pink and blue and Van Gogh yellows.
And yet, I do suddenly realize out loud to myself, how bad you truly felt.
We will miss you and love you forever,
and for all the things I see in this atmosphere, they remind me of you.
On the 54th day.